


(I Know Who I Want To) Take Me Home

by littlepistols



Category: CW Network RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-31
Updated: 2012-05-31
Packaged: 2017-11-07 02:46:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/426064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlepistols/pseuds/littlepistols
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jared expected a whole new life when he moved to L.A. for a job, but when he became friends with Jensen, the guy hired to recruit him, he never imagined there would be these kind of benefits.</p>
            </blockquote>





	(I Know Who I Want To) Take Me Home

**Author's Note:**

> Written for spn_cinema on LJ and "inspired" by the Justin Timberlake/Mila Kunis movie 'Friends with Benefits'. Beta'd by the lovely cherie_morte. Title taken from the Semisonic song, 'Closing Time', used prominently in the film. This is my first crack at RPF and I'm terribly proud to have actually finished and posted it. Beyond that, I make no guarantees ;)

 

Jared grew up in a small suburb just outside of San Antonio, grew up there and only ever moved away after high school, attending college in Austin and staying two years for a job after that. But, with the exception of the five days and four nights his family spent in Disneyland when Jared was eight, he's never been outside of the state of Texas. He supposes that's his excuse for what he does the first time he lands in Los Angeles, there for a job interview. He's standing by the luggage carousel, looking around for his contact, when a tall man with movie star good looks steps in front of him, asks his name and introduces himself as the guy on the other end of the string of emails that have led Jared to Los Angeles and a potentially new job, and offers him a hand. 

Jensen Ackles doesn't even look offended when Jared doesn't immediately take the proffered hand, too busy trying not to gape at what is possibly the best looking man he's ever laid eyes on. His smile is polite and his pale green eyes enquiring when he asks, "rough flight?" 

Though he does start to look worried when Jared stumbles over his words, attempting to put together a sentence.

Jared has never been smooth in the face of jaw-dropping good looks, so what he comes out with is, "Yeah,… No! Flight. good."

Jared panics then, not wanting Jensen, who's been heavily trying to recruit him for a new position at an upstart online lifestyle magazine for the last few months, to regret having wasted his time on someone so obviously dimwitted (and apparently, Cro-Magnon) and is just about to open his mouth and try to fix his terrible first impression when Tom Cruise walks by. 

Tom Cruise. Walks by.

What Jared does next just might go down in history as one of the worst first impressions ever when he pivots on his heel, practically yells, "oh my god, that's Tom Cruise! He's so short!" to which everyone within hearing distance turns first to look at him then to what is in fact Tom Cruise in jeans, leather jacket and baseball cap with a small army of security being herded through the terminal and swept into a security door and out of sight. But not before turning to look Jared's way, a nasty sneer on his famous face, and what can only be described as a death glare.

When he looks back at Jensen, the man is trying to suppress his laughter, his eyes alight with amusement and Jared feels like the biggest idiot. He can't believe that within minutes of being in L.A. he's actually had a star sighting, can't believe he was so uncool in the face of celebrity (even if it happens to be the most uncool celebrity on the A-list), and that he managed to insult said celebrity in public. His cheeks heat up and the only thing he can think of to salvage the moment is shrug and explain, "he's way shorter than I imagined." Jensen looks him up and down, bursts out in laughter, smacks Jared on the shoulder and says, "come on Padalecki, there's a whole city of celebrities out there for you to insult," and leads him out of LAX.

| ♦ |

Jensen's been doing this job for a while, not so long that he doesn't remember what it was like to be able to hold a conversation with someone and not try to size them up, charm them out of something or generally get his way, but close. Headhunter is a terrible name for what he does (he prefers the more friendly _executive recruiter_ ), but he knows it's apt. Jensen looks for talent, the brightest and most creative minds, and lures them away from their often comfortable lives, families, and loved ones, with the promise of success, accolades… and more money. Because it almost always comes down to money. Except Jared is sitting across from him in one of Jensen's favorite hangouts and Jared is proving him wrong.

Jensen figured Jared for a guy who'd appreciate a place where people didn't go just to be seen (and judging from the little scene at the airport, it was probably a good idea to keep Jared away from any place with the potential of seeing famous faces, at least until he got acclimatized to celebrity), which is why they're sitting in the back of Jensen's favorite hangout, the Santa Monica Pier so close you can smell the ocean and hear the crowds. Jared, having just been offered a five figure salary – more than double what he currently makes heading the creative team behind a tiny Austin city lifestyle blog – is seriously considering turning it down because, "L.A., man, it's just… _so far_."

Jensen wants to argue that L.A. is not far enough. It's only a few hours flight from San Antonio, and Texas is really too close for Jensen's comfort, but he refrains from saying that out loud. Jared has already made it pretty clear that he's close to his family. Besides, Jensen figures this isn't about them, and most certainly not about his own issues.

"You got a girl in Austin?" Jensen asks because it's almost always about a girl.

"Uh," Jared begins, and looks around the bar, avoiding Jensen's eyes.

Or a guy.

"You have a boyfriend," Jensen concludes. _You're slipping Ackles_ , he tells himself. Jensen is good at spotting hot gay men, they're like a homing beacon for his cock, and figures this is something he should have seen from the start.

"Well, not really. Not anymore."

"You broke up?"

Jared sighs and nods.

"Recently?"

"Yes," Jared admits and Jensen tries not to smile. He can work with that. Before the night is over, he'll have Jared accepting the offer, and Jensen will have made his commission. If, in the back of his mind, he thinks that he might get so see this guy again ( _hot guy_ , his libido helpfully supplies) if he's living in L.A., he doesn't dwell on it.

He takes a long sip of his beer, leans forward on his stool and gets to work.

| ♦ |

Jared can't pinpoint the exact moment he decided. Maybe it was when Jensen gave him the hard sell (and Jared is not such an idiot he didn't see it coming), the "this is what you were meant to do" speech a little much, in Jared's estimation (he's a creative director, not in the running to become the next Gandhi) but entertaining nonetheless. Maybe it was just after his interview with his new boss, Sam Smith, feeling like they'd connected and she got his vision and liked his ideas about where he wanted to take the online magazine. But Jared suspects it was much earlier than that. It might have even happened before he'd ever left Austin. It might all be because of Todd.

Things with Todd had begun easily enough. They'd met through mutual friends (Liz, from work, introduced them) and began to date almost immediately. Todd was smart, good-looking, knew everything there was to know about the music scene and all the happenings around Austin, which made him invaluable to Jared, working at _Austinunderground.com_ , the hip online lifestyle magazine for the city. Jared had never been cool. He wasn't clueless, not in the least, but Todd was the epitome of hipster, cool and unaffected and so in the know, he often heard about the newest band or trend before anyone else. Jared used to feel a little guilty when he went to work with a new tip from Todd, feeling a bit like a fraud. But being the creative director meant that it was the look, not necessarily the content, that he was responsible for, and Chad, who was probably his best friend in Austin and who _was_ in fact responsible for the content, was wholeheartedly behind Jared doing half his job for him. 

Jared supposes the _whys_ don't matter. He's here, living in L.A., after flying back to Texas long enough to grab what he really needed from his stack of things in Chad's garage, and he's got a great apartment that the company pays part of (at least for the first year), a sedan leased in his name (also for a year), and a whole new life ahead of him.

The part that matters to Jared, the part that still stings, is that he convinced himself he was in love with Todd. And what's worse, he held on, even when he knew it wasn't working, even giving up an opportunity in New York (and with GQ) to make things work. He desperately wanted for things to be different this time. 

Jared has always been a champion of amicable splits; he considers himself a friendly guy, which makes it all the more painful that he's never been able to stay friends with his former boyfriends. The only exception, his high-school girlfriend, Sandy, still sends his family Christmas cards every year with a special note for Jared, but the rest of his lovers have all disappeared from his life, usually in fast-forward. Chad thinks it's because Jared is "too much like a chick" (and Jared isn't even sure what that means, though he distinctly remembers the word "clingy" being used more than a few times). According to Chad, romance is a "fairytale" and over-rated anyway. Jared would like to think Chad's wrong, but looking back on how he's tried, and failed, at romance every time, he can't help but think maybe Chad has a point (about romance, anyway. _Not_ about the Jared-being-a-girl part).

He definitely had a point about Todd when he called him a "pretentious asswipe hipster."

"Jared, you need to grow up," Todd told him the night before Jared left Austin for good, "romance is dead. It's all about negotiating a mutually beneficial arrangement, getting what you can out of someone and vice-versa." He paused, seemed to think it over, "well, not _you_. Someone who can actually offer something in return."

Jared listened with sickening dread when Todd then listed why he didn't have anything to offer anyone. This is what he got for trying to stay friends: phone calls that always started up amicably and ended up with Todd detailing Jared's faults Still, he sat there, said nothing, and vowed that would be the last time he talked to Todd.

Since moving to L.A., Jared has stuck to his resolve (so much easier when someone keeps telling you everything you _don't_ want to hear). It's too bad Todd never got the hint. Todd seems to think that he's doing Jared a favor by keeping in touch, and while Jared hasn't actually spoken to him since landing in California, Todd keeps leaving "helpful" messages on his voicemail. Getting over Todd was the topic of last night's message. 

Jensen, who is sitting across from him in the same bar he took Jared his first night in L.A., listening to the message through the tinny speaker on Jared's cell phone, seems to think this is hilarious.

"He sounds like a douchebag," Jensen tells him when he's finally able to stop laughing long enough to speak. His eyes are crinkling at the corners in amusement, and Jared can't help but think those crinkles are more than a little adorable. Those crinkles are also possibly the only reason Jared doesn't tell him to fuck off.

"I'm glad my pain amuses you," is what he says instead and those crinkles are gone in an instant.

"Man, I'm sorry, it's just, you're way too nice, Jared. I would have told him to eat shit a long time ago if I were you. You keep that up you'll be eaten alive out here."

Jensen's words are eerily reminiscent of Chad's. Of course, Chad used more expletives and told Jared not to be a "fucking pussy".

"I've been doing all right, so far," he says, shrugging.

It's only been three weeks since he took up the position at L.A. Life & Style (which he is still trying to convince the higher-ups is a terrible name), working with a small but talented creative team assembled from all over the country to bring the upstart online magazine to life in a few month's time. So far, it's been long hours, crazy meetings and half of his time has been spent arguing with the parent company – a media conglomerate with too much money and not enough vision – into letting him have more creative freedom. It's not exactly what he thought he'd be doing when he got here, but he's got his boss behind him and he's still thrilled by the prospect of what their online magazine can become. It's not GQ but it excites him nonetheless, and it's a great distraction from his love life, or lack thereof.

"That's 'cause you've got me," Jensen tells him and wisely changes the subject.

Jared has only known this man, who's quickly become a friend, for a short time, but he kind of has to agree.

| ♦ |

Jensen liked Jared instantly. The moment the tall, gorgeous guy loped into the terminal and into his life, making a spectacle of himself and insulting an A-lister in the first five minutes of their meeting, Jensen was hooked. If he'd met Jared in a club, he would have taken him home and fucked him stupid. If he'd met him in college, he would have probably tried to befriend him first. If he'd met Jared a year ago, he would have asked him out, maybe they would have dated and they would probably be broken up by now, since Jensen's relationships never seem to last more than a few months anyway. But Jared is a special case, right smack in the middle of that gray area between work-related acquaintance and friend, and Jensen doesn't want to mess anything up.

Besides, Jensen is past having relationships. Boyfriends have never worked out for him. Girlfriends have been even more tenuous. But friends Jensen can handle. They get along and Jared makes him laugh (though most of the time, it's unintentional). Jared has already spilled his guts, telling Jensen all about the asshole he last had a relationship with, and some of his most embarrassing moments. Jared, apparently, is a fan of the "grand romantic gesture" (Jensen can hear the quotes around the words when Jared's says them), and he has many tales of woe to back up every failed attempt. According to Jared, almost all his relationships have ended badly or just fizzled out, and yet Jared still sounds like a hopeless romantic, even as he details them.

"So what happened to the clown again?" Jensen asks when he loses the thread of Jared's story. It's something about how he tried to surprise his first college boyfriend with his very own birthday party in a park one time since the guy never had a party of his own as a child. Jared makes it sound all very sweet but Jensen thinks throwing a twenty-year old a kid's party is ridiculous.

It's the middle of the day and they should be at work but have taken a long lunch and ended up walking along the Santa Monica pier. Jensen's always liked it here, despite the tourists. The smell of the ocean and the fun-fair vibe, complete with Ferris wheel (his favorite part), remind him of family trips from his childhood. He also thinks it's a pretty fitting place for Jared to be telling this story.

"He got attacked by a gang of kids," Jared says as they pass a table laden with handmade jewelry.

"A roving gang?" He snorts. 

"Shut up, it was horrible!" Jared exclaims. A few people stop and look at him then move on. Jared is loud and excitable, his long arms flailing for effect, and Jensen finds himself trying to reel him in.

"Okay, okay, relax there, Padalecki," he says. He finds it interesting that with all the odd people, like the roller skating guitar player or the guy in the monkey suit, and miles of bare tanned skin along the pier, it's Jared that gets stared at. Then again, looking at Jared, all 6 foot 5 of him, with his long hair and hazel-green eyes, his dimples and his sweet, wide smile, those wide shoulders and muscled arms, Jensen isn't that surprised when their eyes linger.

"That clown was traumatized, man. Those kids pulled off his nose, stole his big, funny shoes. He was never able to work again."

Jensen can't help but laugh then, shaking his head at the sheer ridiculousness of Jared's claims. "You're shitting me, right?"

"No, Jensen, I'm not _shitting_ you," Jared answers, pouting. "It happened."

"Oh." Then, "sorry?"

Jared cracks a smile. Jensen can only laugh at his own gullibility (and punch Jared in the arm for good measure). 

"They never stole his shoes, but they did tackle him, so I had to pay for a new clown costume. And Jason broke up with me." He shrugs. 

Jensen isn't sure whether to believe him or not until he sees the look in his eyes. It reminds him of his old dog Buster and the look that dog would get after futilely chasing its tail. It makes Jensen a little guilty, thinking about how he'd laugh at his poor dumb dog, and then he feels bad for comparing Jared to dumb ol' Buster.

"Well, Jason clearly didn't know what he was doing," he says, trying to soothe his own guilt and Jared's ego.

"It worked out okay in the end," Jared explains, "he met his wife just after we ended. They have, like, twins or something."

And that's the thing about Jared, right there. No matter what, he's always looking at the bright side. It's kind of annoying, a little endearing and something else Jensen finds he likes about the guy. So even if every time he looks at Jared, he gets that little thrill of want that comes with being so fucking attracted to someone you want to jump their bones, he won't act on it. Their friendship may be new but it's something Jensen already doesn't want to give up if he doesn't have to.

Jensen's had other friends he's found attractive before and nothing ever happened (and, if he's truthful, he knows a lot of people he's befriended over the years who wouldn't hesitate to jump into bed with him if he offered). The attraction eventually faded the more he got to know the person. He figures that's just the way it will go with Jared, too. Jensen will take friendship over complications any day. He can get laid whenever he wants. Friends are much harder to come by and being Jared's friend is more than good enough.

| ♦ |

"So he yells, _'Dude, you are so fucking short!'_ "

Jared feels his face flame as raucous laughter fills the apartment.

"I didn't exactly say it like _that_ ," he protests weakly, glad that most of the crowd from Jensen's impromptu get-together has already gone home. 

Danneel, one of Jensen's colleagues and closest friends, and one of the last holdouts from the party, pats his knee consolingly as she stifles her laughter. "I'm sure Jensen's exaggerating," she says, "he's good at that."

Jensen looks affronted. "I don't exaggerate," he replies, shoving her good-naturedly.

"Oh, honey," she says, patting him on the cheek, "of course you don't." They get into a shoving match, Danneel trying to slap Jensen in the face while he ducks and yells and grabs at her hands.

"You wanna help me out here?" he says, but Jared only watches, wistful smile on his face. Danneel reminds him so much of Adrianne, his best friend from back home. Adrianne and Danneel look nothing alike, but they are both loud and brash and beautiful, and he feels a pang of longing.

Danneel manages to extricate herself from Jensen's grip and excuses herself, leaving Jensen smiling openly at him from across the couch, his eyes warm and wide. Jensen is more than slightly inebriated, and Jared may be buzzed but he can tell there's something more to the look in Jensen's eyes. He feels warm and happy sitting there, with Jensen's attention on him, and they sit like that for a while, just looking at each other. It's odd but he feels like this is where he's supposed to be. The thought catches him by surprise and before he can examine it too closely or question it, Danneel is pulling a drunken guest into the room.

Misha, Jared remembers from their earlier introduction, is slumped beside Danneel, blue eyes glazed over and arm around her waist.

"Look what I found in the bathtub," Danneel exclaims.

Jensen is up off the couch in a second and helping Danneel shoulder the weight of their inebriated friend. "Hey, Misha," he says, voice gentle, like he's talking to a child, "I thought you went home?"

Misha looks around as if trying to find his bearings and his eyes land on Jensen's face. "Oh, Jensen, there you are. I was waiting for you."

"Were you?" Jensen asks, amused. 

"I wanted a bath," he says. He reaches up and cups Jensen's face. "Would you scrub my back?"

Danneel rolls her eyes. "Wow, someone's had way too much to drink."

"It was the Absinthe," Misha agrees as he continues to caress Jensen's face.

"There was no absinthe," Jensen tells him as he tries to keep his friend on his feet.

"Wasn't there?" Misha asks dropping his hand, and Jared feels a sudden knot in his gut release. He figures it must be the tequila.

Misha looks confused, but goes willingly when Danneel and Jensen lead him out of the apartment, Jensen throwing a quick, "be back in a minute, Jay," over his shoulder as he goes.

Jared nods to no one as he's left in Jensen's apartment alone, feeling like his bones are liquid and there is no way he can get to his feet and get off that couch. He realizes he might be more than a little buzzed. Then he realizes Jensen just called him _Jay_.

Jared smiles to himself and leans back, prepared to wait for Jensen to return, maybe ask him something, Jared isn't sure what just now, but he knows there was something he wanted to say. 

Then he falls asleep.

It takes a few weeks for Jared to remember that he'd had something he needed he say to Jensen, then quickly forgets in the face of launching _LAsparkle.com_. He barely has time to think about anything other than fonts, layouts, graphics and colors, barely has time to grab dinner after a long day or call his mom or Adrianne (or even Chad) for more than five minutes. But he always finds time for Jensen.

He doesn't even really think about Todd anymore, unanswered calls finally giving his ex the hint. But he can't help but think about his words and Chad's advice. Romance, Jared knows, is not something he needs or even wants right now. But nothing says a mutually beneficial arrangement couldn't work.

| ♦ |

Jared is splayed out on Jensen's couch when he brings it up. Jensen can't say he's surprised. He's caught Jared looking more than once, hazel eyes sweeping over his body when he thought Jensen wasn't looking. But Jensen's always been acutely aware of when he's being checked out. It's that awareness that's gotten him ahead in business and almost always gets him laid.

When Jensen turns to properly look at Jared, gauge just how sincere he is, Jensen sees the unmistakable look of want in Jared's eyes.

"You serious?"

Jared sits up straight, looking ready to argue his point. "I am," he says simply, spreading his hands.

Jensen can think of a hundred reasons why this would be a bad idea. _Okay, maybe only a few reasons_ , he thinks, watching Jared eyeing him expectantly. He can also think of a few why this kind of arrangement would be damn near perfect.

"What happened to romance and 'happily ever after'?" he asks.

"I'm over it," Jared shrugs.

Jensen isn't quite sure what that means. "So, what," he considers, "you want to be fuck buddies?"

Jared cringes. "Don’t call it that," he protests. "You make it sound so dirty." He jumps up off the couch and closes the distance between them. "Friends," he says, sliding a hand from Jensen's shoulder to his wrist, slow and soft, like Jensen's a skittish schoolgirl. He thinks he should be offended. 

"Let me guess: _'with benefits'_?"

Jared licks his lips. "Exactly."

Jensen squints at him. "Are you putting the moves on me _now_ , Padalecki?"

Jared crowds into Jensen's space, keeps his hand loose around Jensen's wrist. "Maybe?" he replies, looking like a teenager asking his date to the prom.

"Maybe?"

Jared breaks the tension by taking a step back and huffing loudly. "So you don't think it's a good idea?" he asks.

"It's a terrible idea."

"Why?"

Jensen looks at him like it's obvious, waits for Jared to catch up.

"That's exactly why this is perfect!" Jared exclaims, throwing his hands up. "We get along really well, and you don't want date me, right?"

"No," he says firmly.

"And I don’t want to date you, I don't want to date anyone right now!"

Jensen figures he should be relieved. "But you want to get laid."

Jared smiles ruefully. "Yeah, I do. Is that so bad?"

"No, man, it's not," Jensen answers and rubs the back of his neck as he tries to think of a good reason why he shouldn't do this, knowing that as soon as Jared asked he knew his answer. "But you could go out and get laid whenever you want, no strings. So why me?"

"I don't want random hook-ups," Jared answers, earnest. "I trust you, man. We're friends," he hesitates, looking sheepish before he adds, "and you're hot."

Jensen lets out a small huff of laughter at the last part. He trusts Jared, too, he thinks Jared knows that, and the attraction he feels for Jared hasn't fizzled yet, though he isn't sure if Jared's aware of that little secret desire.

Jared's smile turns knowing then, and Jensen is sure that Jared has him figured out. "So?" he asks, stepping closer to Jensen once more. "What do you say?"

Jared is close enough that Jensen has to tilt his head slightly to look up at him. Jensen takes in what he thinks is anticipation glittering in his eyes, the wide set of his mouth and shine of his bottom lip, wet and tempting.

"Before we do this," he says, and Jared's smile gets impossibly wider, "we lay down some ground rules."

"Fine," Jared agrees but doesn't step away. His face loses its grin and his eyes roam over Jensen's face, solemn.

"First, we keep this casual. Just sex, nothing more."

"Okay."

"Second, either of us decides to stop, for any reason, we stop."

"I can do that."

"And third, whatever happens, we stay friends."

"Friends first," Jared agrees.

"Okay," Jensen says after a moment of trying to think of any other stipulations to add.

Jared bites his lip. "Can we fuck now?" he asks eagerly. 

"Uh," he answers, feeling the full weight of Jared's stare as he looks down at him. Jensen has a moment of doubt but pushes it away. "Sure. Sounds good."

They don't even make it to the bedroom the first time, end up on the floor jammed into the space between the couch and the coffee table in Jensen's living room, television muted and forgotten.

They don’t actually fuck the first time either, just rub against each other until they're coming in their pants like they're both still in high school. Jared is on top, lips pressed to Jensen's jaw, muttering something that Jensen can't focus on as he shudders through his orgasm, his long hair tickling Jensen's nose. It's fast and dirty and ridiculous and Jensen wants more.

"Holy shit," he wheezes when Jared rolls off him, crowds up against him in the tiny space.

"Yeah," Jared answers.

Jensen knows he should feel weird about what just happened but he can't feel anything but sated and lazy.

"I thought we were going to fuck," he comments, catching his breath.

"Dude, give a minute," Jared says, chuckling. 

Jensen turns his head to look at his friend. "Yeah?" he asks, hopeful. 

"Okay, more like ten."

Jensen laughs then, feeling lighter than he has in months. _This can be good_ , he thinks. _This can work._

They lay together, staring up at the ceiling, waiting for the post-orgasmic lethargy to slowly bleed out. "Hey, you remember Misha?" he says after a moment of silence.

"The bathtub guy?"

"Yeah, that's him. He's having a party next weekend, and he asked me to invite you."

"Yeah?" Jared asks. He sounds surprised. "I hardly even talked to the guy," Jared tells him.

"Well, you're invited," Jensen says, not sure why Misha's taken an interest in Jared and not caring much at the moment, if he's honest. He can feel the edges of arousal sharpen as the lazy feeling bleeds away. He really wants Jared to fuck him. It's all the thought his mind can muster at the moment.

"Cool," is all Jared says, then, "so you and him, did you, you know, ever sleep together?"

It catches Jensen off guard. "No," he answers, wondering where that question came from. 

"Oh," Jared is quiet for a moment. "Just the whole scrubbing his back thing…"

It takes a moment for Jensen to recall what Jared is talking about. "He was wasted, Jay," Jensen tells him, splaying a hand over Jared's stomach, "and I don't make it a habit of sleeping with my friends." He needs Jared to know he's the exception, but… "Danneel and I dated for a while. Before we became friends, that is," he clarifies.

"Oh."

Jensen is glad when Jared pulls Jensen in for a kiss, foregoing any more questions. "I think we'll need a bed for this next one," he says against Jensen's lips, deftly changing the subject.

"Why's that?" he asks, letting himself be kissed, though it feels weird, like it's too intimate for what they're doing.

"'Cause I'm gonna fuck you into the mattress," Jared says, in what Jensen thinks is supposed to be his 'sexy' voice.

Jensen snorts in laughter. 

"Too much?"

Jensen shakes his head. "Please don't say that ever again."

Jared grins. "But I can still do it, right?"

"Sure," Jensen answers, smirking. "Have at it."

He only has to wait a little while longer until Jared is ready to go. Once they managed to peel themselves off the floor, make it to the bedroom while fumbling out of their clothes and tumble into bed together, Jared doesn't waste any time in making his way down Jensen's body, mouth and tongue sliding along his chest, down to his stomach, stopping to nip at his hipbone, teeth grazing over sensitive skin, before enveloping Jensen's cock in the warmth of his wide mouth. Incredibly, it's only when Jared's mouth is stuffed full that he shuts up long enough to suck and lick and push Jensen to the edge once more before pulling off and sitting up and staring at Jensen.

"Is there a reason you stopped?" Jensen asks, frustrated. He's already so close.

"I need lube and a condom," Jared informs him and Jensen makes a motion towards the drawer of his bedside table.

"Of course," Jared says, smacking his head in a 'what was I thinking' gesture and as he digs around in the mess, Jensen can't help but touch. He runs a hand over Jared's flank, his chest, tweaking a nipple in curiosity while the other hand inches down Jared's taut stomach to grip his hard dick. Jared yelps and pulls away.

 

"You want me to go off?" he complains, settling back down beside Jensen on the bed, condom already out of its wrapper and tube of lube uncapped.

Jensen wonders idly at the guy's efficiency, but really just wants to be fucked already. "What, are you twelve?" he smirks. 

"Dude!" Jared retorts, defensive. "It's been a while!"

Jared makes a comical face, scrunching up his nose, and it's probably the most unsexy face a guy can make as he rolls a condom on, but Jensen looks past it. Jared is not a potential boyfriend or even a one-night stand. Jared is a friend, a giant dork of a friend, but he's also hot and about to fuck Jensen, and Jensen wants it bad, so he can't complain. 

He reaches out to swipe the tube of lube, rolling his eyes when Jared leers, looking entirely too pleased with himself (especially considering he hasn't gotten his cock in Jensen yet), and squeezes some onto his fingers before dropping the tube to the floor. Jared watches, sitting back on his knees as Jensen reaches around and opens himself up. He can see the look in Jared's eyes, all heat and lust. 

" _Fuck_ ," Jared exclaims as he watches Jensen prepare himself and Jensen notices Jared's proportionally-sized dick grow impressively harder. Jared sees him notice and starts to jack himself off slowly. "I'm a shower _and_ a grower," he comments, a goofy smile on his face as he looks down at himself then back up at Jensen while wiggling his eyebrows. Despite the fact that Jensen now has three of his own fingers up his ass, he rolls his eyes.

"Alright there, Groucho," he sighs, pulls out and then grabs his knees and spreads his legs. "Do it already."

Jared bites his lip, stares intently at Jensen for a moment, then does just that.

When it's over, Jared spreads out and wiggles around on the bed, claiming, "Oh my god, this is the most comfortable mattress I've ever laid on!" and "my mattress is like concrete compared to this". Jensen has had enough of Jared running his mouth, because Jared, Jensen has learned rather quickly, is a talker. Not just a dirty talker (though he is that, too) but a mile-a-minute, ramble-on-about-everything, even-when-he's-got-his-dick-in-someone kind of talker. Considering how Jared tends to go on and on when they hang out together, Jensen figures he shouldn't be so surprised.

"Do you ever shut up?"

Jared goes quiet and Jensen thinks, _fuck, I'm an asshole_. He's about to say as much when he gets a spit-wet finger in his ear. He yells and rolls off the bed, hits the hardwood floor, his bare ass smarting when it hits first. He can feel the pleasurable ache from getting fucked feeling not so pleasurable anymore and he winces as he gets up. Jared is draped over the whole bed, his limbs spread out and he's laughing loudly, but he looks so good that Jensen can't really hold a grudge, though he puts on a convincing act. 

Jared, looking contrite, reels in his giant limbs, and makes some room for Jensen on the bed, and even manages to stay quiet for all of thirty seconds before he blurts out, "Man, I'm hungry. Let's order Chinese."

Jensen would really rather order pizza, he was just about to say as much. They spend the next ten minutes arguing back and forth until Jensen eventually gets his way. 

Still, if Jared wants to try fucking him through the mattress again sometime, Jensen thinks, he'll let Jared have his way the next time.

| ♦ |

Misha's house, it turns out, is located in Silver Lake, amid the winding roads and hills of the quirky suburb. It's beautiful there, the houses perched on the hills, 1930's bungalows nestled between large modernist houses and more traditional homes. It doesn't surprise Jared when they pull up to a house reminiscent of Frank Lloyd Wright, boxy and towering over the trees, though Jensen sets him straight.

"It's a knock-off," Jensen tells him, as if reading his thoughts, "but the neighbour's house is a Rudolph Schindler."

Jared tries to spot the house he's talking about, but it's too dark and the trees and bushes too overgrown around Misha's property to see much of anything. Jared tries not to feel too disappointed, figuring he can always come back in the day and check out the architecture in the area for himself, and follows Jensen to the front door.

Once inside, Jared is bombarded with the scent of incense and the low rumble of voices. There are a lot of people for what Jensen described as a "low-key" kind of party. Misha is a minor celebrity in the art world, but a celebrity all the same, so he's bound to know all sorts of people. From the look of the guests, some dressed in layers of clothing and colorful scarves, others in barely anything at all, and a few of them sporting what Jared thinks might be costumes (at least he hopes they're costumes), all sorts is exactly what he sees. 

The house itself is a testament to bohemian style, all mismatched patterns and retro furniture. It's nice, he supposes, in a trying-too-hard-to-be-hip sort of way. It's the kind of place Todd would gush over. Jared isn't that impressed.

"Impressive, right?" Jensen murmurs in his ear as they make their way through the crowd of people converging in the living room to find Misha.

Jared's not sure if Jensen's being serious or not, so he goes with a safe, "cozy."

Jensen smiles and elbows him, then makes a beeline for their host when he spots him. Jared follows, feeling out of his element, and in his best jeans and button-up shirt, sticks out like a sore thumb. He has the feeling it's going to be a long night.

Later that night, Jared finds himself in the kitchen alone with Misha, though how he got there he isn't exactly sure. The night so far has been a haze of faces, strange music and too-sweet drinks that pack a punch. Jared has only had two or three so far but he's already feeling lightheaded and unsteady on his feet. It doesn't help that the artist is staring at him from across the kitchen counter, his penetrating blue-eyed stare reminding Jared of that Irish actor with the too-pretty face that always plays creepy characters. He wishes he could remember the guy's name.

"So, how long have you known Jensen?" he asks, trying to break the odd tension in the room.

"It depends."

"Depends on what?"

"Whether or not you believe."

"Believe…" Jared starts then trails off, unsure if he wants to know just _what_ exactly he's supposed to believe.

"You see, I've known Jensen on this plane for five years, but on other planes, in other realities, in the past, Jensen and I are," Misha pauses and steps closer to Jared, his head tilting a little and reminding Jared of his cousin's pet gecko. It's disturbing. "We are intimately acquainted."

"Uh…"

"Jensen is a special soul. He is a dolphin, gentle, strong, yet he is a shark."

"Okay," Jared answers. He's not sure if Misha's being serious but when the other man goes on staring, Jared figures he must be.

Misha hands Jared a cocktail, which he takes hesitantly, then pushes closer, close enough that Jared can smell the alcohol on his breath, mixed with a sweet fruity scent.

"Try it," he urges and Jared puts the glass to his lips, takes a small sip. It tastes like battery acid and Hawaiian Punch and Jared wants to spit it out. He swallows and makes an "mm, mm" sound.

"You drink that," Misha tells him, "you'll know what you are."

Jared is trying to figure out what he means when Misha leans in impossibly closer, eyes going hard, and says, "I'm a lion, Jared. A lion."

The sound of the kitchen door swinging open and thumping against the wall breaks the tension, as the party filters into the previously quiet room and Jared makes a barely intelligible excuse before clunking the glass down on the counter and barreling out of the room and through the crowd, determined to get away from the strange, strange man and his possibly hallucinogenic cocktail.

He ends up somewhere in the back of the house, roaming among party guests, catching snatches of conversation here and there as he makes his way to what he hopes is a backyard – somewhere less stuffy, and hopefully, quieter, than inside.

He finds himself on the deserted terrace, high enough in the hills that the view of the city is spectacular, the sleek metal railing thin and unobtrusive to the view. In fact the only thing blocking his view is Jensen, who is slouched over the railing, forearms resting on the sleek first rail, head slightly bowed and exposing the back of his neck, making him look vulnerable. The only light is coming from inside the house, filtered through the windows, and Jared can't help but admire the way the light plays over Jensen's back, highlighting the dip just above his waist band and the play of muscles under his thin, tight shirt. Jensen seems to glow, his darkened head haloed by the city lights below. He looks like a piece of art, so still and beautiful, and Jared wants to touch, run his hands along that sleek, muscled back, taste the shadows along the curve of that long, graceful neck. Jared steps closer, his body acting of its own accord, and jumps a little when Jensen suddenly speaks.

"Are you just going to stand there staring at my ass all night?"

He recovers quickly. "You gonna jump?"

"Not yet." 

Jared steps up to the railing and mimics his friend's position. Jensen gives him a sidelong look then turns his eyes back to the view. "I don't like heights," he says, matter-of-fact.

Jared can hear what he's really saying. _Heights terrify me._ "So you come and stand out here?" he asks, trying not to sound too incredulous as he looks down at the darkness, just making out the steep drop below.

Jensen shrugs, straightens up and turns his back to the railing, his eyes fixing on Jared, his mouth curling a little at the corners. "They say you gotta face your fears, right?"

Jared can't imagine anything scares Jensen. For all the time Jared's known him (which is, admittedly, only a few months) Jensen has been nearly unflappable. It's something Jared admires about his friend, even though it makes him nuts sometimes.

Jensen settles closer then, his eyes flitting over Jared's face. "Fuck man, you look spooked. What happened?"

Jared really wishes he had a mirror, curious to know just exactly what the expression on his face is right now. 

"I… dude, that Misha is _weird_."

That makes Jensen throw back his head and laugh, and Jared can't help but watch his Adam's apple bob up and down in staccato rhythm. He has the urge to bite it, just a little but he clamps it down, a little surprised by the sudden urge. He'd never been a biter before Jensen. They've only just started this, and he doesn't know all the rules yet. Being that they're in public (or, at least, not in the privacy of one or the other's homes), he isn't sure it's a good idea to start anything just now.

"Misha's fucking crazy," Jensen agrees, "but he's a cool guy. He's also knows just about everybody there is to know in L.A. He's a good person to know."

Jared can hear what isn't being said, the implication that knowing Misha could be good for _his_ career, but it doesn't make him want to get to know Misha any more than he already has. Jared has a sneaking suspicion Misha would really like to get into Jensen's pants. He also gets the distinct impression Misha doesn't like him very much.

"He's got a great house," is what he thinks to add, deeming that a safe comment to make.

Jensen smiles even wider. "Yes, he does. And I'll show you the best room. Come on." He grabs Jared by the wrist and pulls him back into the house, leading him through the thinning crowd of people inside and up the stairs to a small alcove on the way to the second floor. There, he leads Jared through the only door and into the most hideously-decorated bathroom Jared has ever seen.

"Holy shit!" he exclaims as his eyes try to adjust to the assault of color. The bathroom is one giant colorful mosaic, every surface, including the ceiling, covered in bits of bright tile in whites and blues and reds and yellows, oranges and greens, the occasional black tile thrown into the mix.

"Cool, huh?"

"Did he do this himself?"

"Hell if I know," Jensen answers then drops to his knees.

"What… what are you doing?" Jared asks, though it's obvious by the fact that Jensen is already unbuttoning his jeans, his fingers sliding along the length of Jared's quickly interested cock.

"Well," Jensen begins, as he deftly pulls Jared out from the slit of his boxers, "first party I got invited to when I got here five years ago was in this house and my first blowjob in L.A. was in this very room."

"Nice welcome," he manages, then, "Was it – was it Misha?"

Jensen chuckles and begins to stroke Jared's cock casually, quickly coaxing it to hardness. "No man, I told you Misha and I never messed around."

_No,_ Jared thinks, even as his breathing speeds up and has to sag back against the wall, _you never specified, actually._ What he says is, "Ugh, _yeah_ ," which only makes Jensen huff out a laugh, his hot breath hitting the head of Jared's cock and making Jared lose all train of thought.

"It was some model," Jensen goes on before licking a long stripe from the base of Jared's cock to the tip. "Underwear." Another lick. "Calvin Klein," a kiss to the shaft. "Armani," a soft suckle at the tip. "I don't remember." Jared groans and grabs on to Jensen's shoulders for support. He can't even remember what they were talking about, he just wants Jensen to do that some more.

"Shut up and suck me," he manages, the words coming out harsher than intended.

Jensen looks up, his eyes dark with lust and not at all offended by the command. Jared finds the reaction vaguely interesting, and it will only be later, when he is in his uncomfortable bed, that he'll remember and feel his cock fatten up at the memory. But now, Jared can only think of Jensen's lips around him. 

Jensen gives a few more teasing licks that have Jared begging before he swallows him down, his dick hitting the back of Jensen's throat, and his legs almost giving out when Jensen starts to bob and suck enthusiastically. Jared doesn't last long, and all he can see when he comes, eyes squeezed shut as the orgasm rips through him, is a riot of color behind his eyelids.

| ♦ |

It isn't until they've been doing this thing for more than a month that Jared finally gets the nerve to ask.

"So," he says as they lay together after an afternoon session on Jared's uncomfortable mattress, his head almost hanging off the foot of the bed while Jensen's breath caresses the arch of his foot on the other end. "You're bi, right?"

He feels rather than sees Jensen shift on the bed and sit up against the headboard. "Kinsey scale?" he offers casually, "I'd say I'm a four… point seven five."

"Wow," Jared chuckles, lifting his head to get a look at Jensen, who is propped up on the pillows, hair tousled and lips plump and shiny. It's distracting. "That's pretty precise there."  
Jensen smiles back, stretches his long legs and pokes Jared in the side with his toes. "How about you?" he asks.

"Me, I'm more into whole numbers."

"Yeah?"

Jared sits up and slides closer to face Jensen. "Six. Definitely a six."

"So the high school girlfriend doesn't count?" Jensen asks with a smirk.

"Dude! She definitely counted. And her name is Sandy, by the way."

"Oh, god, you still keep in touch with her, don't you?"

Jared doesn't dignify the question with a response. He knows that Jensen will only make fun of him for it. Instead, he closes the distance between them by crawling into Jensen's lap and showing the man he's fucking on a regular basis that Jared is _definitely_ a six.

And so it goes on like that for months. They hang out at each other’s apartments, watch movies or play video games, head out to a bar or a party, and Jensen occasionally has get-togethers at his place. Jared makes a few friends that way, a few more at work, and even manages a house-warming party, but it's Jensen he spends most of his free time with. Jensen becomes his best friend in L.A. and, he thinks, maybe Jensen sees him that way, too. But no matter what they do, it usually ends up with both of them getting off. 

Jared doesn’t have a problem with that. It’s what the arrangement was for. And the sex, well, the sex is great. It’s liberating to just fuck, no feelings getting in the way. He’s fond of Jensen, they get along like they’ve known each other for years, and Jared wouldn’t trade what he has with Jensen for the prospect of a relationship with someone else. Because this, this is easy and fun, and if Jared has to occasionally suppress the urge to cuddle after sex (because their arrangement is a cuddle-free one, as per Jensen's latest amendment to the rules) or finds himself staring after Jensen when he walks across a room, or wanting to grab Jensen's hand in public occasionally, he shakes it off.

He likes Jensen. He loves the sex. All in all, it’s a highly beneficial arrangement.

Things in Jared's life have fallen into place. He's busy at work but he genuinely enjoys what he does. So when he finds himself being distracted by his thoughts during meetings, while he sits at his computer in his office going over the next issue, when he’s stuck on the freeway in traffic, when he’s brushing his teeth, and those thoughts all center around Jensen, he chalks it up to the sex. It’s the most sex he’s ever had, in a relationship or out. He’s never gotten off so consistently with anyone else, not Todd who was his longest relationship, not even with Terry in college. And he actually shared a dorm room with that guy. 

No, Jared knows that it’s that part of his brain (his “lizard-brain” Todd had called it with derision) where pleasure overrides his higher functions. It’s the part of him, along with his heart (though Todd had argued that away, too, ever the literalist) that led him to convince himself he’d fallen in love with every guy (and on one occasion, girl) he’d ever slept with, his brain (and his heart) equating sex to love. It was why he stayed in Austin with Todd for as long as he did, convinced he was in love with a guy who owned a set of ironic t-shirts, dressed like a homeless person on purpose and constantly wore his three hundred dollar haircut in a ponytail. The sex had been good with Todd. But it had been nothing like sex with Jensen.

Sex with Jensen is give-and-take. Sex with Jensen is unpredictable and adventurous and easy and fun. Sex with Jensen is something that, the more Jared thinks about it, the less he wants to give up one day. But the nature of the arrangement is temporary. Jared knows that one day Jensen will meet someone he could have a real relationship with, someone who’ll be perfect for him (because, despite all evidence to the contrary, Jared still believes in true love and soul mates and all that sappy stuff), and then their arrangement will be over. The only consolation Jared has is that at least they can still be friends. Because, despite the constant sex, that's exactly what they are right now: friends. He knows that it's pretty optimistic on his part, but the thought soothes him all the same.

It makes it easier to fall into bed with Jensen, then go home afterwards, knowing that tomorrow, the next day, Jensen will be there. Not just to fuck, but to talk to, laugh with, share his most embarrassing moments and never have to worry about trying to be something he's not.

This thing he has with Jensen is almost perfect. He tries not to dwell on the tiny part that isn't.

| ♦ |

Jensen knows it's a bad idea the first time Jared mentions it. Hasn't changed his mind when Jared mentions three more times. It doesn't help that when he brings it up again, Jensen has him bent over Jared's leather sofa, naked from the waist down, and is pumping into him with enthusiasm.

"So, _ah_ , we can leave that Wednesday, _ungh_ , just before the holiday, _yeah fuck right there_ , and be back Monday after- _ah, yeah_ – afternoon."

The last thing Jensen wants to do, besides have this conversation, is go back to Texas, even if it's San Antonio and not Dallas, where he grew up and his parents still reside. He hasn't been back in seven years. He sees no reason to go back now.

Except Jared's got it in his head that Jensen needs some serious time off and what better way than to be pampered for a long weekend by Jared's mom? And Jensen resolutely tries to wipe away that thought. He doesn't want to think of anyone's mom when he's fucking his… his friend. 

"What do you say?" Jared manages, breath pushed out with every thrust. Jensen is having a hard time concentrating and needs Jared to focus.

"Fuck, Jay," he moans, frustrated and building towards orgasm. It's a disjointed feeling.

"Come on – _ah, ah_ – come with me."

"I'm trying!"

"I'm – _yeah, right there_ – serious."

Jensen drops forward, his thrusts slowing as he bites at the back of Jared's neck. It elicits a long, drawn out moan from Jared and he tries to push into each thrust. 

"Jay?"

"Yeah?" Jared breathes, turning his head as far as he can to look at Jensen.

"I'm seriously trying to fuck you right now." Jensen pulls away, grips Jared's hips tight, manhandling him so that his ass is in the air, his head down over the seat, words muffled by the thick cushions, and thrusts hard. Jared shivers beneath him and whimpers, then lets loose a string of curses and moans as Jensen pounds his prostate over and over, quickening his pace and getting closer to his own release with every thrust.

He feels it when Jared falls apart, squeezing around him and pushing him over the edge, and Jensen keeps thrusting, erratic, no rhythm to his movements when he comes. He keeps going until Jared is keening and trying to get up. He pulls out and makes it to the bathroom on shaky legs to discard the condom and clean up and when he comes back into the living room, Jared is sprawled over the couch running a finger through his own jizz on the cushions.

"Dude, I don't think you're getting your deposit back," he comments, thinking about all the other places they've had sex in this apartment. 

"Totally worth it," Jared hand-waves and gestures him over. Jensen sprawls out beside him, careful not to sit in the wet spot. He wonders idly if jizz stains leather.

It's quiet between them, like it always is after sex, if only for a little while (until Jared gets his breath back enough to start chattering again), just the sound of their breathing and the occasional rustle of skin-on-leather as Jared shifts and sighs contentedly.

It's Jared who breaks the silence, of course. "So," he says, "I booked us the flight already."

"Jay – "

"Come on, Jensen, it'll be fun."

Jensen doesn't want to go. He's said as much, though never why. "Texas? Really?"

"Yes, Jen, Texas. _Home_."

Jensen just shakes his head no.

Jared eyes him, looks like he wants to ask and Jensen braces himself. He's not prepared to explain. He's not sure he can even put it in words. Instead, Jared closes his eyes and begins to hum a tune that takes Jensen a little while to recognize.

"Really, Jay? _'Blame it on Texas'_?" he says incredulously. "Subtle."

"What? You have something against country?"

Jensen glares, or tries to. He can't muster much anger at the moment.

Jared stifles a grin and closes his eyes once more, begins humming the chorus to Everclear's 'Santa Monica'. Jensen can't help the fond smile that stretches his face. Thankfully, Jared can't see it.

Jared cracks one eye open, a grin threatening to break out on his face. Jensen sighs and rolls his eyes, attempting to hide his smile. "You're a pain in my ass, Padalecki," he grouses.

Jared lets out a boisterous laugh and Jensen can't help feeling like he's just given in. It should bother him more than it does, he thinks, that saying yes to Jared is inevitable, but it doesn't. Jared has become his best friend, and benefits or not, he would do just about anything to keep that smile on Jared's face. If that means braving Texas for a few days, he'll do it. And as long as he stays away from Dallas and family (and the past), maybe Texas won't be so bad.

| ♦ |

Texas turns out to be worse than Jensen thought it would be. Not only is Jared's family just as boisterous and talkative as he is, but his parents are _huggers_. Jensen gets hugged to within an inch of his life when he meets them, first by Jared's father Gerry (who is just as tall as Jared but wider) and then by Jared's mother Sherry (who is slim and slight but still taller than average).

They greet them enthusiastically at the airport, grabbing luggage out of his hands and insisting on splurging for dinner at a seafood restaurant that turns out to be a Padalecki family favorite. They're joined by Jared's aunt, uncle and two teenaged cousins (Jensen's glad that Jared's sister is away at college and his brother is on the East Coast – it would be Padalecki overload, otherwise), and the meal goes on for hours.

By the end of it, Jensen has had his ear talked off, he's nursing a headache and his stomach is uncomfortably full from all the shrimp and lobster Jared's mother insisted he eat. He also feels an ache in his chest watching the way Jared interacts with his parents so easily, that friendly jovial guy he's come to know exactly the same with his parents as he is with everyone else.

The Padaleckis, well, they're nothing like his own parents, and Jensen can only feel sad about that.

| ♦ |

"Ah, mama," Jared whines, "why'd you do it?"

Jensen peers around his friend through the bedroom door. What used to be Jared's bedroom is currently covered in flowers. There is flowered wallpaper adorning the walls, giant blossoms bursting with color on the bedspread and curtains, and what Jensen thinks is a sewing machine in the corner, a floral print cover settled over it. 

"Dude," he snorts, "this your room?"

Jared turns to look at him, a comic look of horror on his face.

Sherry slides into the room from behind them, and pats Jared's shoulder consolingly, though she doesn't look the least bit sorry.

"I needed a place of my own for my crafts and things, honey." She's a flurry of activity, darting around the room gathering up flowery throw cushions and various scraps of cloth, and depositing them into the closet before turning around to face her son. "And if you bothered visiting every once in a while, like your brother and sister do, I wouldn't have chosen your old room for it."

Jared looks guilty then and Jensen knows Sherry's hit a nerve. "Did you at least save my posters and stuff?" he asks, pouting.

"Of course, they're packed up in the attic." His mom shoots him a patient smile. "Now why don't you show Jensen to your brother's room? Unless…" 

Jensen feels Sherry's eyes on him, waiting for a reaction and it occurs to him that maybe Jared wasn't clear about their being just friends. 

"Sure," Jensen jumps in before Jared can reply. "That sounds good." The smile on his face feels strained. "Lead the way," he says, turning to Jared, who has an unfathomable look on his face. It takes him a moment to respond, but then he suddenly jolts to life, and Jensen follows as he's lead to a more sedately decorated room.

Jared stays long enough to point out the bathroom, make a few comments about tomorrow, and then leaves Jensen alone in the room, wondering how things suddenly got so awkward between them.

| ♦ |

Jared can't sleep. It isn't just the strange surroundings (what used to be his bedroom now looking more like a room at a bed and breakfast and feeling just as foreign), or the full stomach or even the excitement at seeing his parents again and being home. Jared can't sleep because he can't stop thinking about Jensen. Jensen, who his parents took an immediate liking to, who suddenly got strange the minute his mother suggested they were anything other than what Jared told her – friends.

Granted Jensen has been quieter the whole time they've been in Texas, and Jared wonders if it's just that. Jensen has something against Texas, though he's never told Jared why. There have been hints, comments about not being able to wait to graduate when he was in high school, about escaping to somewhere "better", his admission that he never went home the entire four years he was in college, hasn't seen his parents in nearly ten years. Jared figures it's the gay thing (or, as Jared learned early on into their friendship, the bi thing). That's the most obvious answer anyway.

But Jared knows there is more. Whether it's the fact that Jensen's parents don't approve of his sexuality and cut him off, or if Jensen was the one who did the cutting off (and Jared suspects this might be the case, based on the few things Danneel said to him when she found out about their plans), he isn't sure, but he wishes Jensen would trust him enough to tell him already.

He lies in bed a little while longer, stewing over it, then decides he's finally going to get Jensen to talk. 

When Jared slips into the room later that night, Jensen is still awake. 

"Hey, Jen? Can I…"

"Jay, don't you think it's bad form to fuck under your parents roof the first night we get here? I mean, at least you can wait a day."

"Ha ha, very funny," Jared answers as he sits on the end of the bed. "I couldn't sleep."

Jensen doesn't say anything, just nods, and Jared understands. _Me, too._

"So…" Jared begins, not sure what to say. _What do you think of my family?_ _Do you regret coming here with me?_ _Does it suck to be here?_ They're all questions he wants to ask but can't. 

"Your parents are great, Jay," Jensen says into the darkness. He sounds sincere, and a little sad.

"Thanks, man." 

Jared fiddles with the sheet, pulling it taut between his fingers then crumpling it up again in a nervous gesture. It's unlike him, to feel this awkward around Jensen. He's only ever felt it the first time they met and he embarrassed himself, but Jensen made it okay. He hasn't felt truly uncomfortable around his friend ( _with benefits_ his mind supplies) until now. Their arrangement wouldn't have survived this long if he had. And maybe it's because they're more than friends but less than lovers that he's hesitant to bring up the subject of Texas, though he's more than curious to know why Jensen is estranged from his family. 

It turns out, he doesn't have to ask.

| ♦ |

Jensen can tell Jared wants to know. They've been friends for nearly a year now, and in all that time Jensen has never mentioned his family. Jared, on the other hand, has told him more than he ever wanted to know about the Padaleckis. Everything he's told him only makes Jensen wish his parents were even half as supportive, his family half as close.

Jared is laying beside him in his brother's bed, both of them staring up at the faint glow of old constellation stickers arranged in haphazard fashion all over the ceiling. Jensen isn't an expert or anything, but he's pretty sure the stars aren’t supposed to spell out "Jeff". Jensen supposes it should feel odd to be laying in bed with Jared fully clothed, not groping or trying to get off, but it feels comfortable, not unlike after every time they fuck, (minus the lethargy that comes from amazing orgasms and the heavy breathing from trying to catch their breath) but different somehow. But good. Really good.

"I didn't tell my parents I was gay, or bi, until I was leaving for college," he begins, breaking the silence and his self-imposed ban on talking about the past. "I knew before then, about fifteen, but I knew they'd never accept it."

"Why not?" Jared asks, his voice barely a whisper in the dark.

"They were religious, they were from the South, they were old-fashioned. You pick."

Jared is quiet and Jensen feels the need to go on. 

"My parents were always there for me growing up, you know, but they always expected me, all of us, to act a certain way, too. _Be_ a certain way. My brother, he did what they wanted. Went to college, business school, got married, had kids. And my sister fell in line, too, as far as I know. But I couldn't, man. I mean, I like women, I do. But I like guys a little more, and I knew when I told them they wouldn't see anything else about me but that. It wouldn't matter that I got good grades, had a job, got a partial scholarship. So I made sure that they wouldn't have to deal with it ( _so I wouldn't have to deal with them_ he thinks), got into a school far away from Texas, then I told them the truth."

Jared turns his head and Jensen can feel those eyes roaming over his face. "What did they say?"

"What I expected. That it wasn't natural, that I should just stick to girls, that I had a choice and I should make the right one. It was as much as an ultimatum as if they said, _'you're straight or you're gone'._ "

"But they didn't."

"What?"

"They didn't actually say it, did they? They didn't actually cut you out of their lives."

"Jesus, Jared, they didn't have to say it!" He realizes his voice is rising and he lowers it when he adds, "I just did it first. That's all, Jay. I did it first, before they got the chance."

Jared looks at him sadly, like he sees something he's never seen before, finally gets it. It's too much for Jensen. He turns his head away but Jared grabs his face with both hands, gently turns his head to face him again. Even in the dark, he can see the watery look in Jared's eyes. It makes something ache in his chest to see that Jared cares that much. That Jared cares that much about _him_. It's not something he counted on happening when they started this.

"Don't look at me like that," he says, suddenly angry, though he tries to keep his voice down. 

"How am I looking at you?"

"Like I'm fucked up! News flash, Jay, I _am_! I am so, so fucked up. _Monumentally_ fucked up. There, now you know. Aren't you glad?"

"Hey, come on," Jared urges, "I'm just trying to understand. Don't be mad."

"You can't understand, Jay," he breathes, pulling away. "Look at your parents. Your biggest achievement in life could be farting the alphabet and they'd throw you a fucking parade."

Jared snorts. "Well that _would_ be a hell of an achievement," he concedes.

Jensen smacks him on the arm and rolls his eyes. The moment is lighter now and Jensen just wants to let the subject drop, but Jared scoots in closer to him on the bed and it's clear he isn't about to let it go.

"Have you talked to them since?" he asks.

Jensen shakes his head. "Once. My mom, she… I don't know, she tried to get me to come home for the holidays back in college, but I knew what I'd be walking into so…" He hasn't thought of the last time they really talked in years, the stilted conversation, his mother's clipped tone and the resignation in her voice when they ended the call. He remembers that his father never came to the phone, never once tried to talk to him. It still hurts like hell to think of his mother's final words: _"Well, Jensen, if you insist on being that way, then I guess there's nothing your father or I can do."_

Jared is quiet and still for a long while, longer than Jensen's ever remembered him being and if Jared's eyes weren't fixed on somewhere around his chin then Jensen would think he fell asleep. But Jared speaks eventually. 

"Maybe," he begins, hesitant, "maybe they'd want to see you again."

"What, maybe they changed their mind?"

Jared shrugs, the pillow nestled under his shoulder shifting and making a crinkling sound. It's like they're in a bubble, all noise magnified, bouncing off the invisible dome surrounding them like Jared's big brother's bed is an island and they are the only inhabitants. Like it's just them and nothing else exists. 

"Maybe you should reach out to them, Jensen. Give them a chance."

Jensen wants to argue, tell Jared that he knows his parents well enough to know they haven't changed their minds. And the thing is, Jensen knows it would still matter because he's not in a heterosexual relationship, and he's not sleeping with women anymore. There's only Jared. Jared, who is male and all he wants right now. Maybe ever. And that's scarier than the prospect of seeing his parents again and being rejected. 

Thankfully when Jensen doesn't say anything, Jared lets it go this time. He's sure that Jared will bring it up again, but right now he knows that it's enough that he's confided in his friend. Jared smiles warmly and pulls him close and before Jensen can even think how good it feels to be in Jared's arms, he falls asleep.

| ♦ |

The prospect of seeing Adrianne after months away is the only reason Jared braves _The Saddle and Spur_. It’s a dive, set between run-down shops in the sketchy part of town near the airport, but it has the distinction of being the only place that would serve Jared and his small group of friends when they were high school seniors. He can see by the look on Jensen’s face that he was expecting something else when they walk in.

“This isn’t a... ?”

“Gay bar,” Jared provides, his voice low enough that the patrons won’t overhear. It isn’t likely to make them any friends in this place. “No, man,” he chuckles. 

“But, dude, the _name_ ," Jensen murmurs and Jared can’t help but agree. It’s why they braved this place the first time, Jared curious and horny and more than ready to hook up with a guy, and Adrianne hoping to see some “boy-on-boy” action live and up-close. What they ended up in was a local dive catering to old-timers and real urban cowboys, all of them minding their own, which suited Jared and his friends just fine. 

Jared just shrugs and Jensen gives a conceding nod after a quick glance around the place. Jared stifles a grin when Jensen steps closer and is practically on his heels as he leads the way to the back. The action is so unlike Jensen. The man he knows is fearless, but everything about Jensen has been a little different since they landed in Texas. 

Adrianne, it turns out, is early, and has already claimed their favorite booth, closest to the back exit, perfect for a group of underage drinkers to slink out of if the need arose (it’s also the booth the bartender always made them sit at, just in case). Jared bets it’s still got their initials carved in the top and his chewing gum stuck to the underside.

She jumps up from the table and hurls herself at Jared, long arms seizing him around the neck and pulling him into a hug.

“Jared, oh my god, don’t you look positively sunny!” she beams, smiling wide. Several rough-looking patrons turn and look at them, some of them turning right back to whatever they were doing, some letting their eyes linger on Adrianne’s ass. It would bother Jared if he didn't know that Adrianne could probably kick every one of their asses. He introduces Jensen, who gets a slightly less powerful hug, then they slide in, Jensen pressed to Jared's side, and order a round. 

“It’s pretty brave of you to venture in here alone,” Jensen comments after the waitress, a middle-aged woman with brassy blonde hair and a sourpuss expression, drops off their drinks. He’s looking around surreptitiously, like he doesn't want to make eye contact with anyone. It would be kind of funny if it wasn't so out of character.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Adrianne answers, “no one messes with me here, I got Benny watching my back.”

“Oh my god, Benny’s still here?” Jared gapes.

Adrianne gestures to the corner, and sure enough, old Benny is sitting at his table, sipping on a whiskey, straight, a newspaper spread out before him. The scene is familiar and it takes Jared back. Benny looks up, nods at Jared in acknowledgment and goes back to reading.

“ _He’s_ your bodyguard?” Jensen asks, incredulous.

Jared and Adrianne explain then, how Benny’s been there, at that corner table, for decades, how he watched their backs when they would come in there, too young to be drinking and too stupid to know better than to wander in to a place like that, and how old Benny, as harmless as he looks, once knocked a guy on his ass when he tried to get grabby with Adrianne. The memory of that particular night makes Jared feel a little guilty for abandoning his childhood friend for Austin (and Todd) for so many years.

It isn’t long before Adrianne is running her mouth and telling stories that Jared thinks are better left in the past, including every story where he did something incredibly stupid and/or embarrassing. Like the time Jared drank two beers and proceeded to throw up all over himself at the very table they're sitting in, then cried all the way home because he ruined his favorite pair of Chucks, or the time he tried to sneak out of his house when he was fifteen, slammed the window on his hand, broke three fingers, fell off the roof and fractured his arm. Jared wishes there weren’t so many.

“He was being such a girl!” Adrianne taunts, recounting the first time Jared actually got up the nerve to ask someone out. It had been Sandy, and even then he knew it didn't feel right but he'd done it anyway, partly to get his friends off his back. He cringes at the thought of being that confused, skinny geek once upon a time. 

“So I slapped him upside the head and yelled, ‘Buck up, cowboy!’ and the fucker went and did it!”

"You didn’t do that,” Jared chimes in, feeling the need to clear things up. “You slapped me on the ass, in _front_ of Sandy, and you said, _‘Man up, asshole!'_ "

"I was channeling your father."

"My father's never called me an asshole in my life!"

"Not to your face."

"Not out loud."

Jensen and Adrianne share a look and then break out in laughter. Jared looks at them incredulously before banging his head against the table. He knew it was a bad idea to introduce them. This can only end badly for his ego. Jared has no choice but to keep drinking and hope he doesn't come out of this looking like too much of a loser. Maybe if he drinks enough, he won't care that Jensen's learning just how lame he really is.

As the night progresses and Jared gets progressively drunker, he starts to feel better about the impression Adrianne's making for him. Jensen laughs, sure, but he also shares a few of his own embarrassing high school stories. The awkwardness that's settled between them since they got here is gone, and Jensen's smiles are genuine. Jared can’t help feeling warm all over when he sees the way his friend's face lights up. 

Jared gets his revenge on Adrianne and manages to get Jensen laughing boisterously by recounting some of Adrianne's idiotic stunts while she tries in vain to cover his mouth, flinging herself over the table at one point and knocking down Jensen's half-empty beer bottle and dumping the contents on Jensen's lap.

Adrianne apologizes and Jensen tells her it's fine, his eyes shiny and the smile on his face crinkling the corners of his eyes the way that tells Jared he's being genuine. It still does funny things to his insides, but Jared chalks it up to the alcohol and watches Jensen disappear around the corner when he excuses himself to clean up. He can feel Adrianne's eyes boring into him. He may be more than slightly drunk, but he is aware enough to know the look she's giving him. Jensen's stories about L.A., while never being explicit or obvious, included too many intimate details about Jared for Adrianne not to have noticed. When he finally looks over at her he isn't surprised to see that look on her face he knows so well.

"Why didn't you tell me you two are dating?" she asks, smacking his arm.

"We're not," he says. Then, "We're just friends."

She quirks an eyebrow. 

"Well," he concedes, "not _just_."

"Uh, huh."

"We're fucking," he confesses.

"Got that part," she says, too chipper. He can tell she doesn't approve.

"It works," he retorts and he can't help the defensive tone in his voice.

Adrianne sighs and leans forward. That's never a good sign.

"I mean, you two seem really good together, so what's the problem? Is he deep in the closet or something?"

"No," Jared says, shaking his head a little, "nothing like that. We just… we're friends. We're good as friends."

"That fuck occasionally."

Jared averts his eyes and she starts crowing, "Oh my god, you fuck like bunnies, don't you?!"

"Jesus, Adrianne," he says, embarrassed.

Adrianne settles down. "It's just, I know you Jared, you've never been able to keep love and sex apart, here," she says reaching over the table and tapping him on the temple, "and here." She taps him on the chest, and Jared tries not to cringe at the earnest turn this conversation has taken. He really hates that even after all these years and time apart she still knows him so well.

"I can," is all he says.

"Please," she scoffs.

"I can with Jensen."

"Why, because he has such a terrible personality?" she asks, pursing her lips. "He's hard on the eyes?"

"Because it would never work."

"Why? He seems like a really good guy."

"He is," Jared defends, because despite his occasional surliness, Jensen really is a good guy. He's generous and funny and gorgeous and Jared needs to stop that line of thinking. 

"He's also bad at relationships," Jared goes on, because he needs to make it clear to Adrianne that what he and Jensen have can't ever be more than what they are. "And he's really fucked up, like _monumentally_ fucked up," he decides, recalling Jensen's words just the night before and desperate to convince Adrianne, though he isn't sure why.

"Wow, Jared, that's harsh."

"It's true." _It is_ , he tells himself. _It is._ "He'd make a terrible boyfriend." And then, "We're better as friends."

"Who fuck like bunnies."

"It's good. It works."

"Right." Adrianne doesn't look convinced.

It's then that Jensen appears at the booth, his green eyes wide in the dimly lit bar. "Hey, I'm kinda beat and you two need a chance to catch up so I'm going to head back."

"Wait, you don't have to go," Adrianne begins.

"No, seriously, I've had way too much beer, and you know, I'm kinda," he gestures at his clothes. Adrianne looks sheepish and is about to protest again, or maybe apologize, Jared isn't sure, when Jensen cuts in. "Listen, it was great meeting you Adrianne." He smiles but it's off somehow, and he drops a few bills on the table then looks at Jared. "I'll see you back at your folks'."

Jared just nods and watches as Jensen walks away, the fuzziness in his head making it difficult for him to work out why that exchange felt so wrong.

It's only later that he realizes Jensen never looked him in the eyes.

| ♦ |

Jensen can't get the words out of his head. Overhearing Jared use the words, "monumentally fucked up" to describe him hurts in a way he never anticipated. He's been called fucked up before, hell, he even describes himself that way, but he never thought that Jared saw him like that. Like a damaged person – good enough to fuck, to hang out with but not good enough to give his heart to.

It shouldn't bother him, he knows, because falling in love was never part of the deal, but he isn't too fucked up to admit to himself that it's too late for him. He's gone on Jared, has been for a while, though he convinced himself that this arrangement they have between them would be enough. Had to be enough. Jensen now knows, as he hails a cab on the corner to bring him back to the Padalecki home, that he was fooling himself. He also knows what he has to do.

Jensen slips in quietly, the key Jared's mother pressed into his hand earlier, insisting he keep it while he was visiting, coming in handy. He's grateful for that one small gesture, a gesture that implied so much trust, and he feels suddenly resentful that Jared can't do the same. Yet, he knows it isn't fair to Jared to resent him for sticking to the deal. Jensen agreed to it, after all, has benefited from their friendship and all the casual mind-blowing sex. He wasn't ready for a relationship back then, when he first met Jared, and it was obvious that Jared wasn't ready either. 

But Jensen's moved on from being the hurt little boy who could never be loved for who he was. At least he thought he'd moved on. Turns out, he isn't that far from the boy who grew up in Dallas, weary of showing people who he really was, knowing that revealing that part of himself would only push the ones he loved away. 

The truth is, as much as he feels hurt by Jared's words, the only person he's angry with is himself.

Jensen is still up when he hears Jared stumble into the house. When he hears Jared's bedroom door close, he slides out of bed and stealthily makes his way into Jared's room, sliding the flimsy lock into place behind him.

"I'm kind of drunk, Jen," Jared tells him when Jensen settles on his lap and begins to kiss his way down Jared's bare chest, teasing each nipple to hardness with his teeth. 

Jared squirms beneath him, his breath hitching at the sensation. "Jen, we can't. You know, _ah_ , you know I get loud when I'm, _ungh_ , drunk."

Jensen doesn't respond, just kisses his way to Jared's stomach before pulling up and looking him in the eye. He can barely make out the look on Jared's face though his eyes are glassy and wide in the dark. "I'll have to keep you quiet, then," he says and kisses Jared hard.

Jared opens up to him easily, and his groans are lost in Jensen's mouth as he gives back, hunger and desire evident in every dart of tongue and wet slide of lips. They kiss until Jensen feels like his lungs will burst, tries to ignore the feeling that his heart is about to do the same, and he pulls away, stands up and pushes his boxers down and off. He can see the way Jared's eyes roam over his body, can feel the heat of it, as if Jared's giant hands are skimming over his skin, and he quickly helps Jared out of his boxers then climbs onto his lap again.

"You too drunk to fuck me, Jay?" he whispers and Jared groans, wets his lips, answers, "No, I mean, yeah, _yeah_ , wanna fuck you."

Jensen reaches back, fingers himself open, though it's just for show. He's ready, having fingered himself in the bathroom earlier, lubed up and ready for this, just one last time, he told himself, reminds himself again as he slips out a finger and positions himself over Jared's cock. 

There's no condom this time, the first time they've done it like this, though they could have been going bare for a while, since they've both been tested – Jared for insurance purposes, Jensen for his own peace of mind. They'd exchanged the information casually, Jared's mantra of "wanna fuck you bare, wanna come inside you, want you to feel me" laying unspoken between them. But they hadn't, not until tonight, and Jensen wants to weep at the thought that he's finally letting Jared fuck him like this and will never get to fuck Jared the same way. It's too much, so he pushes those thoughts aside and concentrates on the pleasure of being filled up by Jared, controlling the rhythm, getting Jared off and getting off himself.

And it's only to quiet Jared's increasingly loud groans and bitten off curses, he tells himself, that he lunges forward and seals his mouth to Jared's, kissing him hungrily like he can't get enough, like it will never be enough and comes between them, streaking Jared's stomach and chest before Jared is coming inside him, filling him up. He knows he'll feel it afterwards, dripping down his thighs and cooling against his skin. 

He'll feel it, just this once and never again.

| ♦ |

When Jared wakes up the next morning, two things become clear to him. One, Jared shouldn't drink with Adrianne ever again, if the pounding of his head is any indication and two, he had sex with Jensen last night. Loud, drunken sex with Jensen last night. In his childhood home. With his parents down the hall. Fuck.

By the time Jared makes it out of bed, gingerly showers away the worst of the smell of beer (and sex) off his skin and puts himself together enough to face his parents, his mother is waiting for him with a stack of warm pancakes on the kitchen table.

He ducks his head when he greets her and takes a seat. He is fully expecting to see annoyance or embarrassment on her face, so when he looks up he's surprised to see the look of concern.

"Mama – " he begins, but she speaks over him.

"Jensen's gone, honey," she says, voice gentle, like she's breaking some terrible news. 

"Gone?"

"He left early this morning, said he had to fly back for work."

"What…?" Jared trails off, trying to make sense of why Jensen would just up and leave. "Did he," he asks, confused, "did he leave a message for me?"

His mother shakes her head, but Jared can see she knows more than she's saying.

"Mom?"

His mother bites her lip and he can see the gesture for what it is. She's considering whether or not to speak her mind. "What happened last night?" she finally asks.

Jared blushes then, the first time in years.

"I don't mean that, JT," she says sounding scandalized, "I am very aware of what went on there. The neighbors down the street are aware of what went on there."

"Sorry," he says sheepish.

His mom holds her hand up and it's clear that's the last time they're broaching that subject. "I mean, before. What happened?"

"Nothing! We went for drinks with Adrianne, they had a great time making fun of me," he shrugs, wracking his brain for anything specific.

"He came back without you."

"Yeah, Adrianne knocked a beer over, spilled all over him."

His mother nods and he has to ask. "What, mom? What is it?"

She still looks unsure but she plows on. "It's just, when he came back last night, he came in looking like someone took his dog out back and shot it," she says sadly. "It wasn't the look of a happy man."

Jared doesn't know what to say to that. There isn't anything he can think of that might have upset Jensen, except… and then it all makes sense. 

The sex last night, bareback for the first time, the way Jensen wouldn't look at him when he left the bar, the way he looked, almost wounded when he finally did when they were fucking. Jared gets it then, that Jensen must have heard what he said to Adrianne. He wasn't so drunk last night he can't remember the conversation. _Monumentally fucked up_. Jensen's words, but words Jared never had the right to repeat. 

Jared can't feel lower than he does at the moment. That is, until he looks up at the look on his mother's face.

"What did you do, JT?" she asks, gentle.

Jared feels like he might throw up and it isn’t the hangover doing it. "I, I think I screwed up," he answers finally.

"Well," his mother says, patting his hand, "you'll just have to fix it." She gets up and leaves him to the remains of his breakfast and his thoughts.

Jared spends the rest of his long weekend being treated by his parents like he just got dumped. The bright side is ice cream and homemade meals and hugs from his mother, the downside is leaving a string of messages for Jensen that go unanswered. By the time he's headed back to L.A., Jared has left more than a dozen, ranging from friendly to desperate. He hates feeling this way, like he's the worst person possible, and like he'll never see Jensen again. And that is the worst part for him: the thought that Jensen is gone from his life for good. It's not even the sex he'll miss, but just being able to talk to Jensen, make him laugh, be around him. Jared just wants Jensen in his life. He'll take whatever he can get.

But he can't help feeling that whatever he can get will never be enough. He wants all of Jensen, he knows that now, and that is the scariest realization of all.

| ♦ |

Jensen never imagined that Jared would be this persistent. It's been nearly three weeks since that disastrous long weekend in Texas. Three weeks since he saw Jared ( _for the last time_ his mind supplies helpfully), tasted him, had Jared inside him. Three weeks and that scooped-out raw feeling in his chest hasn't gone away. Neither has the urge to see Jared again, talk to him, though he's heard his voice enough through voicemail that he's memorized every way Jared intones his name. _Jen_ sen. _Jen._ _Jensen, please._

But Jensen can't bring himself to give in. He let Jared in, told him things he's only ever confided in one other person. He's hurt and he's angry and there is no way that Jared will survive the encounter with his face intact, he tells himself. It's a good a reason as any to avoid him. 

It's too bad everyone else has a different opinion on the matter.

First it was Danneel, who noticed the change in his mood the first day back at the office. It didn't take long for her to figure things out, and though she doesn't know the details (Jensen isn't about to give her them) she's intuited most of the situation. It's the kind of scary women's intuition that makes Jensen glad things never worked out between them.

"Just call him, dumbass," is what she ultimately tells him.

Jensen doesn't argue but he doesn't take her advice either.

It turns out that Misha, of all people, is the one that changes his mind.

Jensen ends up sitting in a bar somewhere in West Hollywood, in the VIP section on a Wednesday night, Misha and two tall blondes on one side, and a young (hot) up-and-coming artist (at least, according to Misha) on the other. The up-and-comer is regaling Jensen with tales of his life as an urchin (or maybe it was a street painter, Jensen isn't paying attention) in Paris, while sliding closer and closer to Jensen on the leather couch. 

The way his eyes dart down to Jensen's mouth every other word is obvious and had this been a year ago, he wouldn't hesitate to take him home, fuck him and show him the door. But that was before Jared crawled inside his ribcage and took up residence around his heart. And maybe Jensen's had too much to drink if he's thinking like that (though he's barely touched the scotch shoved in his hand when he got here), but he can't deny he misses his the guy. Wishes more than anything they could go back to the way things were before Texas and his big damn confession. 

"Marcus," Misha interrupts, snapping Jensen out of his somber thoughts, "why don't you get us another round? And take your time."

Marcus, the up-and-comer, looks at Jensen hesitantly, but leaves. Then Misha turns to the two women, murmurs something in each of their ears and they vacate the booth quickly.

"Something you wanna say, Mish?" Jensen asks. 

Misha looks at him for a long time, his blue focused on Jensen's in a way that he's never been comfortable with. 

"You know, Jensen, when I was in college I met this girl,” Misha begins and Jensen groans inwardly. "She was a woman, really," he goes on. "She was beautiful, intelligent, had a strange, twisted sense of humor. She was the ying to my yang, the Gala to my Salvador, the Imelda Marcos to my shoe collection." He brings the fizzy pink cocktail he's been nursing to his lips. "She was the best person I've ever met. And I let her go. Thought I had to suffer for my art," he gestures wildly, and Jensen watches as the cocktail spills to the floor in fat drops. He wonders how many of those Misha had before he got there, and how Misha knows about Jared. "Found out later, it only had to look like I suffered for my art." He shrugs and Jensen waits for the rest of the story.

"Your point?" he finally asks when Misha doesn't say anything else.

"The point, my dear lovely friend," Misha answers and pats Jensen on the knee then leaves his hand there, caressing it softly, "is that I was a fucking idiot. I walked away from the love of my life, and yes, it sounds trite, but she really was the love of my life, for stupid reasons. And now I'm successful, and I'm surrounded by beautiful women and beautiful men, and I could have any one of them I want." He squeezes Jensen's knee meaningfully, and Jensen tries not to pull away. He’s always known Misha’s attracted to him, but his odd friend has never been that forward. "But all I want is her."

Jensen doesn't know what to say.

"Jared, much as I hate to admit, kid, is your Vicky."

_Kid._ "My – "

"Vicky, Jensen. He's your Vicky." He rubs his hand up Jensen's thigh, lingers before he pulls away.

"It's because I've known you forever Jensen, through time and space, that I'm telling you this: don't let your Vicky get away. Go after him. Tell him how you feel."

Confusion about what exactly Misha means by "time and space" aside, Jensen can't help but take Misha's words to heart. It's obvious his friend isn't as happy as he should be or could be, considering his success and rising fame, but Jensen always chalked it up to the artist's temperament. He never fathomed that Misha was nursing a broken heart. He never thought much about it at all.

By the time Marcus comes back with drinks in hand, and holds one out to Jensen, it's easy for Jensen to politely decline and excuse himself. But not before Misha pulls him into an awkward hug. He ends sprawled up in Misha's lap but doesn't mind when Misha's face lights up, making him look almost like a different person.

"Go get your Vicky," he tells him. Jensen takes his advice.

| ♦ |

The next time Jared calls Jensen, he expects the call to ring through, and message already prepared (it's a variation on the same old message he's been leaving for weeks), he's caught off guard when Jensen actually picks up.

"Hi, Jay."

"Um."

"Hello?"

"Jen?"

"Yeah, Jay, it's me," comes the reply.

Jared is speechless for possibly the first time in his life.

"Jared? You still there?" 

Jensen’s voice is audibly shaky. It's possibly the only thing that could get Jared to speak again, the sound of Jensen sounding unsure, almost panicked. 

"Yeah, hi. Um, yeah, I'm here." He swallows then adds, "you answered."

"Yeah, I did."

"Why?" he can't help but ask. It's been nearly a month and Jensen has avoided every one of his calls. If Jared's truthful, he only keeps calling out of habit and the tiny hope that they can repair their friendship, though it's dwindling down to miniscule by now.

"I, um," Jensen begins, "I – can you meet me somewhere?"

"Yes!" Jared exclaims, too eager. "I mean, now?"

"No, uh, tomorrow night. Eight o’clock at the Pier.”

Jared nods then realizes Jensen can’t actually see him. “Okay, sure,” he manages. “I can do that.”

“Uh, great,” Jensen replies. “I’ll see you -- “

“Wait! Where at the pier?” Jared throws out suddenly. He’d hate show up at the wrong spot and have Jensen think he stood him up.

“You’ll find me.”

“What do mean? How -- “

“Don’t worry Jay. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Jared ends up sitting on his sofa, dead air on the other end of his cell phone, wondering if that really happened or he just imagined it. It seems too good to be true. Part of him feels like he should be angry with Jensen for avoiding him for a month and choosing now to talk to him, let alone ask to see him, but he can’t muster the energy. He’s too relieved that Jensen is willing to give him a chance ( _if that’s what this is_ , the tiny voice in the back of his head tells him and he tells it to go the fuck away) to be angry. Besides, it’s not in him to hold a grudge, especially not when he knows that the fault lies with him.

He was the insensitive asshole who used Jensen’s own words against him (though unwittingly), he was the fucking idiot who went and fell in love with the man who’s become his best friend. And he’s the one who has to fix it. He knows what he has to do.

| ♦ |

To say Jensen is nervous is an understatement. He hasn’t felt this way about anyone before, hasn’t had so much to lose until now. It’s crazy that little more than a year ago, he was perfectly content with one night stands, didn’t want to wake up to the same person beside him for more than a day at a time. The last year has been a gradual change, but it was Jared who started it. He managed to get under Jensen’s skin, into his heart the way no one has. Jared was the catalyst but now it’s Jensen who has to take the next step. He’s never done anything like this before either. Can’t help but think back to all the shit he gave Jared for his Grand Romantic Gestures and now he’s about to do the same.

He just hopes he turns out to be better at it than Jared. And most of all, he hopes that Jared feels the same.

| ♦ |

Jared makes his way hastily through the crowd on the pier, scanning the area as he goes. He has a hunch that he knows where Jensen will be but he can’t be sure until he sees Jensen with his own eyes. It’s not that crowded for a Friday night, which is unusual but Jared is grateful that he’s only -- possibly -- going to make a fool of himself with a small audience.

His hand is gripped around a small device in his pocket and he clutches it hard as he gets closer to the amusement area and Jensen’s favorite place on the Pier. 

The Ferris wheel lights up just as he spots Jensen standing a little further down the pier. But the lights from the Ferris wheel seem to fade when Jensen spots him and smiles. He’s even more gorgeous than Jared remembered and he doesn’t realize he’s in Jensen’s space until he can feel the other man’s breath on his cheek.

It’s like that night all over again, when he finally had the guts to ask Jensen to be his fuck buddy (because, yeah, he admits it, that’s what it was). Except when Jensen looks up at him now, his head tilted back slightly, eyes roaming over his face, Jared can see the hope he feels reflected in them, and suddenly he isn’t nervous anymore.

“Hi.”

“Hey.”

“I’m an asshole.”

“Okay.” Jensen hesitates. “So am I.”

“You really kind of are,” Jared responds, because it’s the truth and he’d like to believe that during whatever they were to each other -- friends, lovers -- they’ve always been honest with each other.

Jensen smiles and it’s genuine. 

“I don’t think you’re fucked up.”

The smile wanes. "No?”

Jared shakes his head. “Not any more than the average person”

The smile is gone completely.

“Not any more than I am,” he explains, “or that guy,” he gestures to a passerby with his chin, “or Danneel or your friend from the club, that neighbor who walks his dog only at night, Misha,...”

Jensen gives him a skeptical look, then his look turns knowing.

“You talked to him, didn’t you?”

Jared flushes, embarrassed. “I didn’t know what else to do. I mean, the only other person I could think of to talk to was Danneel, and man, I’ll deny it if you repeat it but she scares me.”

At those words, Jensen throws his head back and laughs. Jared can’t help but stare, the need to memorize every detail of Jensen like this stronger than it’s ever been. He’s gone on Jensen. So totally and absolutely in love. 

"I love you,” he blurts out.

The laughter stops as abruptly as it started and Jensen goes back to staring at him. 

“You sure, Padalecki?” he asks, his tone low and serious.

“Yeah, I am.” 

“Sure it’s not just the sex?”

“Of course it’s the sex,” he answers, and reaches out to keep Jensen close when he starts to back away. “But it’s more than that, too. Fuck, Jensen, don’t make me list everything, I wouldn’t know where to start.”

Jensen seems to consider this then says, “your mouth. That’s the first thing I noticed about you. You were smiling wide the first time I saw you, I don’t even know why. You were standing there in the terminal and you were towering over everyone, man, and you just lit the place up.” He looks embarrassed but goes on before Jared can even react. “And then you spazzed out over Tom Cruise of all people, and I couldn’t help but like you. You were a big, goofy, hot guy and all I could think was why’d you have to be part of the job? “And then I got to know you and I, well... I couldn’t help falling for you.”

Jared is unsure how this situation got turned around. He has his -- granted, hastily planned -- romantic gesture ready to go but he can’t do much more than stare back at Jensen in wonderment. 

“It wasn’t because I gave you orgasms?"

“No, it wasn’t because of the orgasms,” Jensen agrees easily.

“Good.” Jared feels lighter and like everything has fallen into place. “Can we make up now?”

Jensen leans in then pulls away teasingly. “We need some ground rules first.”

“Wait – what?” Jared asks confused. There is a tightening in his chest at the thought that he got this wrong, that Jensen wants to go back to their arrangement. Then Jensen wraps his arms around him, pulling his tight against his lean body and Jared’s fears disappear.

“Asshole,” he scoffs, dropping a quick kiss on Jensen’s lips.

“What about assholes?” Jensen quips, “They in the rules?"

Jared barks out a laugh and he’s only mildly aware of people stopping to watch them before moving on.

“Fuck you, Jen.”

“Yes, that should definitely be on the list.”

“I’m being serious here!”

Jensen sobers. “So am I, and,” he bites his lip, “I was hoping this would work.” He turns to face the Ferris wheel and all of a sudden a song starts blaring from the speakers overhead as the lights on the ride begin to flash to the music. It’s Everclear. 

“Holy shit, Jen,” he breathes as Jensen holds on and watches him. Most of the crowd milling around them has stopped and is watching the light show, but they might as well be alone out there for all Jared sees them. He can’t believe that Jensen did this for him. And then he begins to laugh and can’t make himself stop.

He can feel Jensen tense up before his arms fall away. “It’s stupid, I know,” he starts but Jared waves his excuse away. 

“No,” he wheezes getting control of himself, “it’s amazing Jen.” He can feel the grin plastered on his face stretch impossibly wider as he pulls out the small speaker from his pocket. It’s already attached to his iPod, so he quickly turns it on and presses play. ‘Santa Monica’ streams through the cheap plastic, though it’s drowned out by the speakers overhead.

Jensen looks at him incredulously then bursts out in a loud, jovial laugh. “I guess I outdid you,” he says and the crinkles around his eyes when he smiles are present again. Jared loves seeing them. He missed them. 

Jared pulls him close and kisses him, putting all his passion, all his feelings into the kiss. Jensen responds, pressing closer as he opens his mouth, and Jared explores his mouth with his tongue. They pull apart when they get a few catcalls, though Jared can’t make himself let go of Jensen and keeps him nestled in his arms. 

“I can’t believe you outdid me,” he says, and Jensen gives him a smug smile.

No other words necessary, they turn to watch the end of the light show and as the song fades out, Jared can’t help but think about what led him here. 

He’s ridiculously grateful he was such a failure at romance in the past. He would have never moved to L.A. and met Jensen otherwise, but he's determined to be better at it in the future. He can’t have Jensen outdoing him, after all.

“Jay?"

“Yeah?”

“I think you need to take me home and fuck me through the mattress now.”

Jared thinks maybe he doesn’t have to worry about it. Romance is overrated anyhow. What he and Jensen have is real. He’ll take that over Grand Romantic Gestures any day.


End file.
